


Roses

by deepriverwoman



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Drabble, F/M, Non Canonical Immortal, POV Male Character, and james would still be seen as older, as far as i know abigail is still like a teenager, may or may not be unrequited love, might be slightly creepy, so idk just fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepriverwoman/pseuds/deepriverwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the after life, we have Abigail Hobbs and a new friend, James, who is one of the serial killers from season two.  They share a lovely moment surrounded by tall rose trees, sitting at a piano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I had this pop into my head a few days back and it's one of those things you can't get rid of until you write. EDIT: this was meant to tie into a story idea I had for Hannibal and Will and their afterlife escapades, if I ever get around to bringing that into fruition, finally.

James Gray loved to listen to Abigail playing the piano. They lived in the palace that no mortal could see, and shared that space, spending all of Earth's seasons in a world of their own.

“I think I've gotten better,” Abigail would say, thoughtfully. Her thin, pale fingers caressed each of the keys, some of them hovering just a little, while she tried to remember which note came next.  James would stare at her hands, and imagine the caress was against his cheek and that the thoughtful touch of notes was played against skin.

“That's beautiful,” James said. He wasn't really talking about the song. Abigail's hair had grown long in the time they'd lived in the Afterworld together. It came down past the bench where the two of them sat. Her eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen. The blush of her cheeks reminded him of a pink rose. When he'd given her compliments before, she would look down and brush a lock of hair away from her face, unable to do much but smile. Maybe she didn't believe him, he thought. Maybe she thought that her beauty was long dead, along with her mortal self, hundreds of years ago. James would never believe it. He'd seen so many beautiful people in his lifetime, but to him, she was above them all.

He'd briefly thought of her being part of his design all those years ago. He thought of her being placed right in the middle, her pale skin glistening and kept soft and untouched, well preserved so that it never lost its glow. Her face looking serene as if asleep. Like a fairy tale.

But that could never happen now, and James was very grateful. Immortals never die... he and Abigail and somehow made it into an endless existence. And if Abigail had ever been part of his design in the mortal world, she would never have been able to sit beside him, to play piano, and to look at him with a smile in her eyes and on her plump rose colored lips. Not in that life anyway. There was a God; James didn't believe before, but now he was sure of it and He'd blessed them both with each others presence.

“So um,” she began, “I hear you used to be an artist. Before...you know.”

James nodded. “I was. Of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” Abigail smiled. “Hannibal just says you were an artist. That doesn't mean what he says it means, does it?”

James never truly saw himself that way, as an artist. Hannibal was the first person who ever did. James shrugged. “It depends, I suppose, on your interpretation.”

Abigail nodded. “Interpretation. Okay.” She continued playing.

James supposed she wouldn't find him so silly one day. He felt awkward around her. She was perceptive, and he felt a little dumb, a little out of her league. She had a way about her like that.

All around them in their home in the Afterworld, stood tall trees that perpetually swayed in the breeze, and they were white and their leaves glowed like twilight. Some were black, with red roses. Abigails notes echoed through their branches. James closed his eyes and tilted his head back savoring each moment she played.

“I love it,” James whispered. Again, he wasn't really talking about the song.

“Thanks,” Abigail said. “It's a lullaby.”

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Midway through, I wrote down a line and suddenly thought that this song would actually go pretty well along with this fic: 'She's Got a Way' by Billy Joel. I'd put a link but I don't know how to make "pretty links" but if you're so inclined check youtube :p 
> 
> *and thanks for reading~


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